Together
by lordlottie01
Summary: Merlin, a Druid boy is captured by Arthur, and made an example by becoming a slave to Arthur. Go through the life of Merlin in a different view, their fates forever entwined despite the consequences. Trained by Arthur, Merlin still remains his own person. Rated T for bad language and gore. I don't own Merlin, all rights go to BBC. Chaptered story, long in length.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This chapter contains graphic scenes and bad language. (Sorry guys)**

"We must wipe out any threat of magic," Uther said, his words booming effectively around the Throne Room. "Kill everything that walks the earth in that Druid Camp."

He turned to his son Arthur, who remained stiff in disagreement with Uther's statement.

"Except the Dragon Lord," Uther muttered, making sure no one but Arthur could hear him in the murmuring court. "Bring him to Camelot alive." 

"How will I know?" Arthur asked his voice supressed with loyal obedience.

"My dear boy," Uther said with an unnatural chuckle. "When desperation is at the peak, the Dragon Lord will use the only power it has left." Uther paused. "It will bring back the last dragon. If so you shall kill it."

"Yes, father."

Uther patted his son's back heartily, which was the most affectionate he'd been since Ygraine died. "Good man."

Uther addressed the court now, clearing his throat. Instantly, silence fell.

"I need a batch of my best knights to be led by Prince Arthur," Uther demanded, which instantly sent a servant scuttling. "We leave to cleanse this noble kingdom of magic, bit by bit." Uther made a memorable gesture. "And this is only the beginning for those inhuman beasts of the unknown." Cheers flooded around the room, the heartless men yelling in agreement to Uther's words, encouraging the madness that had driven Uther his whole life.

By dusk, Arthur and the knights were prepared for the battle ahead. A boy that was barely past his teens came to dress Arthur in a shell of armour, fingers trembling as he set to work. Arthur refrained from rolling his eyes, practically feeling the nervousness radiating from the boy. Arthur did have a reputation with servants. Countless times, a new was hired, numberless times they left all the same. With permanent injuries and enough hatred directed at Arthur to make themselves enemies of Camelot.

It wasn't Arthur's fault, not really. But he simply could not _stand _how spineless they were, one hit would send them grovelling for forgiveness. All came to the same result, either Arthur got bored or the servant did of too many cuts and bruises. Uther never minded getting a new one for Arthur. Servants, after all, were as common as the dirt that covered the land. Play for a little and you just get dirty.

Finally, the boy finished with a shaky bow, fear shining in his eyes. Arthur snapped, shoving past the peasant that played the emotions Arthur so desperately despised. He never wanted to be feared, but respected for the decisions he made. Unlike his father who was fuelled by the fear of the more evolved, he was fuelled by the motivation of the people.

With a sigh, Arthur blocked his conflicting thoughts and marched purposefully to his proud thoroughbred. The knights arrived promptly, saddled and ready for the coming attack. Arthur wished he could say the same.

~OOO~

Arthur scanned his surroundings, surveying the campsite that lay ahead. The small site consisted of a dozen small tents, smoke drifting lazily from the doused fire in the centre. The air was crisp in the sharp cold of night; the peace of the camp remained untouched with the heavy breathing of the sleeping.

"Remember," Arthur hissed. "No sentries will be found. This is a training place for children found with such…" Arthur bit down his lip. "…Curses. The Dragon Lord shall be the only master of these children, no doubt." Arthur's throat was suddenly thick with the reality he'd carved out for himself. "Kill them. Capture the Dragon Lord."

The knights nodded, keen for the slaughter they were about to admit. With a deep breath, Arthur picked up his crossbow, regret bursting relentlessly through his body for the murder he already considered done.

_Earlier that day…_

Merlin bolted through the forest, oblivious to the scraping of thorns and bramble, warning him not to continue ruthlessly. Merlin ignored the perils of nature, plunging deeper into the abyss of greenery. Stopping abruptly, Merlin gulped in a deep breath through his nose. He had to think of a better way. Or rather _act _in a better way. Sapphire briefly swallowed the dark blue of Merlin's eyes and with it a vision like a clap of lightning, flashes of knights surrounding a small boy with swords poised for the kill.

Merlin tore his eyes open, and found his-self running without realising. His legs were one step ahead, the long bounds enthused by the swiftness of adrenaline. Only his consciousness tired, rotting away with great worry. Perhaps he was already too late, perhaps…

Blinded with panic, Merlin stumbled over the body of a Camelot knight. Dumbfounded, Merlin realised all the knights of his vision were unconscious. Spinning in a full circle, Merlin found the boy. His frail form was hidden in a turquoise cloak, hand outstretched in threat. Merlin could feel the power of this child, could feel the invisible force of it smothering him.

"I'm from the Druid Camp," Merlin gasped, noting that strangling force could also be the boy throttling him. "I… came… to… save…" Merlin choked, lungs crying flames for much needed oxygen.

With a flick of his fingers, the child released Merlin, shadowed face not even twitching with emotion as Merlin gulped air in while lying face flat on the ground.  
"State your camp number," the child called out in a deadpanned voice, small hand still outstretched in mistrust.

Merlin glanced up at the small boy, and saw a knight looming behind the child, spear raised. Without a second thought, Merlin swept his hand desperately, watching as the knight flew through the air with his arms flailing. The child's emotionless mask cracked with astonishment, walking up to Merlin with new confidence.

"Your impulse magic is good," He said in acknowledgement, holding out a pale hand as an offer of help. Merlin tried to smile, wincing when he tried to talk. The child offered a flask of water, watching as Merlin practically inhaled the contents. Merlin clutched his head, feeling the pounding of hurried running. With magic came a sixth sense, and Merlin could feel the vibrations of footsteps booming around the forest like an earthquake as they came ever closer.

"We have to move," Merlin croaked out, his voice sounding like rubbing sandpaper. He could feel the piercing gaze of the child's eyes on him, considering the trustworthiness of him.  
"Please," Merlin begged, the footsteps almost deafening his ears. "You must trust me."  
The boy lowered his hood, revealing the youthful face of a boy at roughly 12 years of age. His sallow complexion told the tale of malnourishment, cheekbones as sharp as a knife with lack of food. His ocean blue eyes had a glint of determination, brown curling hair cropped short.

Perhaps the boy saw the truth written on Merlin's face; perhaps he could sense danger as much as Merlin. Whatever the reason, the boy held out a hand for Merlin, the gesture a sign of temporary allegiance. Merlin took it without hesitation, tearing through the forest with the child in tow. The thundering footsteps of soldiers behind them told Merlin to keep moving, to hide the child that didn't deserve to be forever hunted like game. Frantic, Merlin dived into a hollowed tree trunk, pushing the boy down to keep them hidden. They were practically in a jumble of limps in the cramped space, breathing was at their own risks.

_Stomp… Stomp… Stomp…_

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, clutching the boy's hand even harder, the sweat cold on his body. A pause. Breathing from the outside became sharp as they scanned their surroundings for the two, the pair of knights walking directly up to the tree trunk.

"_Ruslos," _Merlin whispered, bushes in the opposite direction rustling in distraction. The knights dashed away, eager to catch nothing but a spell.

Merlin breathed freely again, clambering out of his hiding spot with the boy. For a moment they were both silent, synchronised in their ragged breathing of relief.

"I'm Merlin," Merlin said in introduction, grinning deviously at the boy. Typical Merlin greeting usually happened like this.

Instead of laughing like a child normally would, the boy regarded Merlin thoughtfully, vivid blue eyes almost mournful when Merlin spoke.

"My name is Mordred."

~OOO~

Merlin sat, lighting the fire with a brief flash of sapphire. He watched as the flames crackled, the illumination of embers lighting Mordred's face in a glowing orange eerily.

"Your magic is strong," Merlin said. "I have never seen a child with such power."  
"Yours is stronger," Mordred deadpanned, eyes fixed solemnly on the licking flames. "I would be dead if it wasn't for you." Mordred looked almost frustrated at his own words.

"Mordred, for a child of your age the magic that binds you is beyond the skill of some adults," Merlin said in reassurance, bewildering with Mordred's adult like maturity. "When you get to our camp, we can enhance your gifts into something to be reckoned with," Merlin poked Mordred's side playfully. "Besides," Merlin went on. "You nearly killed me. Not bad for a kid that's apparently worse than me."

No reply.

If Merlin was honest, he was slightly impatient with the boy. Never had he seen such power displayed by a child, and yet Merlin felt as if he couldn't get across to the boy in anyway. Clearly the child resented Merlin's company, presumably only with him so he could observe this camp.

"Why were you trying to save me?" Mordred asked suddenly, brilliant blue eyes demanding and hard. "I have no relation to you, as far as I'm concerned."  
"I felt your presence lurking around the camp," Merlin started to explain, fidgeting with a twig. "I am the son of a Dragon Lord. Though I am untrained in the arts of magic, I can feel when someone with the power of magic is near."

Mordred gaped in awe, but quickly clamped down any sign of emotion.  
"How did you know it wasn't just a member of your camp?" Mordred asked, as if he was interrogating someone. "If I was around the borders, I could've been any Druid just wandering around."  
Merlin picked at the frayed corners of his boots. "It's hard to explain. Magic is unique in every person," Merlin flicked his finger, a dragon formed of embers dashing around the campsite. "Everyone has a different level of magic, a different skill and different approach." Merlin thought carefully as he went on. "Some people are afraid with the gifts they're born with; some take advantage of its power, poisoning their gift into a curse with deadly potency." Merlin glanced anxiously at Mordred. He appeared to be drinking in every word Merlin said, leaning in as he listening intently. Encouraged by a show of human emotion, Merlin went on with more confidence.

"We all have a choice with this gift," Merlin said. "We can either ensnare it with an evil approach, abusing the power we were born with. Or…" Merlin ranted on. "…We can allow it to flourish and blossom under the tenderness of others. We can choose to be right and just, using our gifts only if necessary and never use it with the intent of hurting others but of defence with fighting for those we love." 

Merlin took a breath, realising this had nothing to do with Mordred's question.

"I am sorry," Merlin said with a small smile. "Sometimes I get a little deep. Basically your magic wasn't like anyone's in the campsite."

"Don't you ever feel that when another with such talents is murdered, you should fight back with all the love you strive for? To respect the dead even, killing the ones who slaughter magic's like animals for slaughter? Aren't they the ones that rot your values to the core?"

Merlin countered without hesitation. "That would go against all I believe in and what the dead believed in. Camelot fear what we destroy and one day," Merlin's eyes shined in such passion. "One day they'll see that. They shall see that they were wrong to kill the good and we will fend off the evil with them. Together." 

"You are a fool for thinking such," Mordred protested. "Camelot and all its allies will always be afraid of the more evolved, they will vow to rid the Earth of such majesty," Mordred hesitated. "But your goals to aid those in peril are righteous, just like your beliefs for a better world."

Mordred took in a breath, eyes studying Merlin.

"I like you, Merlin." Mordred announced suddenly. "You and I are not so different. I hope one day we will meet again." Mordred pulled his cloak up.

"Where are you going?" Merlin demanded, scrambling up to Mordred's height. "Aren't you coming to Camp?"

"I am a Druid like you, Merlin." Mordred showed the symbol that pledged him to a life of running. "And my people have been murdered by the Camelot you think will accept you. I must take my revenge." 

"No!" Merlin exclaimed, grabbing Mordred's sleeve. "Come to Camp," Merlin pleaded. "It will be suicide…"  
"So to," Mordred said coldly, snatching his sleeve away. "Is trying to stop me."

Mordred marched into the darkness, and said his farewell in this way:

"Beware Merlin. Your camp is being overrun with Camelot troops at this very second. Nothing can stop them."  
"How do you…" Merlin began to splutter, but Mordred had already been engulfed in darkness.

~OOO~

It was a massacre from start to finish. As Arthur predicted, the Magical fell one by one, children's screams echoing through the night as bolts ripped through their tiny chests. It was a quick death, but not painless. The tents had been set on fire, knights prowling the area for the Dragon Lord. But only the corpses of child were to follow, burning flesh overpowering everything else.

Arthur stopped shooting bolts, his sharp blue eyes honing in on a man with no sword; his golden eyes the only weapon visible, fighting off six of Arthur's men at once.

"FATHER!" A scream echoed from across the campsite, a boy slightly younger than Arthur dashing towards the Dragon Lord with astounding speed. But the boy's calling would be the undoing of the Dragon Lord. The Dragon Lord, torn in distraction turned toward the boy to make sure he was okay. In his surprise, one of the knights managed to get the Dragon Lord on his back. But the next to come was the worst. Before anyone could react, the blonde haired man stabbed the Dragon Lord repeatedly, blood spurting on his face.

"That's for my brother you bastard!" The man spat, throwing himself off the bellowing Dragon Lord.

In the midst of a battle of child's howls of terror, of the clashing of swords and ringing of finality from bolts, one scream dominated it all. It was a scream that wrenched Arthur's heart even more than the children, a scream of ultimate grief and anger.

And then it stopped. The fires subsided, the ashes of tents settling. The remains of humans, stayed still in the mouth of death. The boy threw himself on the Dragon Lord, sobbing as he checked for a pulse, oblivious to the surrounding of knights.

"Who killed this man?" Arthur asked calmly, eyes never leaving the sobbing boy. But it was obvious, even after being stabbed roughly six times; the Dragon Lord was clinging onto life. The blonde haired raised his hand grimly, a sick smile splitting his young, twisted face.

"He killed my brother, Sire." The man told him with a deranged look. "The little shit broke his neck without any remorse."  
"Be that as it may, Sir Vardish," Arthur said with barely controlled fury. "Your king gave us orders for this man to return alive."  
"I beg forgiveness, Sire," Vardish said without sorrow. "But this man deserved death."  
"The king was to judge that…" Arthur would've continued but the last gurgled cough fell past the Dragon Lord's unmoving lips. The boy sat sobbing, rocking the man back and forth gently.

"What of the boy?" Sir Leon murmured to Arthur. Arthur shot Leon a quick glance of indecisiveness, eyes returning to the boy.

"You called this man 'Father' in battle, sorcerer," Arthur said, addressing the boy directly. "Could it be that you are the son of a Dragon Lord?"

The boy didn't reply, burying his face into his father's corpse. Vardish unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the boy in anger.

"You dare to ignore your Prince?" Vardish snarled, his very being trembling in fury.

"Stand down, Vardish." Arthur snapped, shoving the man back. "Give him time."  
The boy fixed his eyes on Arthur's, the metallic and unadulterated pain almost wild in his gaze.

"I don't want any." The boy said in a steady voice, collapsing to his father's level in surrender.

**A/N: Hi guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and let me know your thoughts and opinions in the reviews/ PM. As always, I apologise for my terrible grammar and possibly terrible writing! As you can probably see, I rather desperately need a Beta for this story. This will be chaptered and has a thriving storyline I'm eager to share with you in the coming weeks. Also, if any of you Betas want to correct my terrible grammar, PM me, and I'll look forward to working with you. Thanks again!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all your lovely reviews, and a specific shout-out to Kas3y, for inspiring me with her lovely encouragements.**

Arthur didn't know what to say to that. The boy's eyes were almost savage in wild agony, thin hands still clutching feebly at the Dragon Lord's lifeless arm. Arthur lifted the boy up roughly by the scruff of his exposed neck, unpleasantly surprised at how light he was. A silent sob of grief erupted from the boy's chest, as if being separated from the corpse was painful.

Spinning him round, Arthur came face to face with the possible threat in front of him. It felt wrong even _thinking _those words as Arthur briefly studied the boy. His face was sharply defined by the acute lack of hydration and decent food, cheekbones almost knife like which resembled bizarrely of the formation of a skull. His clothes were thin and ragged in places, revealing his pointed ribs. His raven black hair was tousled with the debris he had faced that day, sallow skin the very colour of horrific health. But his eyes held a glint of determination that instantly put Arthur on edge, as if preparing himself for the danger he might yet face. It was the trait you'd search for fruitlessly in any knight, the compassion that could keep any man's spirits up at the worst of times.

"What relation are you to this man?" Arthur asked, scrutinising the boy's reaction to his words. Arthur expected retaliation, a sweep of his hand that could apparently whisk a man into air. But instead, the boy met Arthur's eyes calmly, dark blue eyes trying to desperately cover up the grief that consumed them.

"I answer to no one," the boy said without a flicker of emotion, looking directly at Arthur but seeing everything past him.

Arthur raised his hand to stop the knights from presumably mauling the boy; using his other to grip the boy's fragile neck in what he hoped was a threatening way.

"You'll answer when you're asked to," Arthur said quietly with clenched teeth. "Is that understood?"

Merlin found it quite ironic how he was getting strangled twice in one day. It was obvious the man wanted a weak nod or something in confirmation of his fear, but Merlin felt no remorse for defying a knight. No anger, no hatred, nothing but a swallowing grief for the father these men had killed in cold blood. With no action, the hand got tighter around his neck, his throat tight and burning. The strength the young man had was frightening; and Merlin knew he wasn't wasting an ounce of energy throttling someone like him.

_You're just making it worse for yourself. _A condescending voice echoed in his head. _The only way you can get through this is by keeping it together. Wait for an opportunity. _

Gasping as the fire reached his lungs (again), Merlin nodded stiffly in submission. Finally the man released his choking hold, the oxygen flooding unwelcomingly through his beaten body.

"I'll ask only once more," the man clasped by his shoulders in a way that would definitely leave bruises. "Are you related to the Dragon Lord?"

Another way to think of this was an easy route into a swift death. Telling the truth would inevitably lead towards prolonging torture and then a slow death. But on the other hand, denying would result in a quick death by the more than glad knights.

"Have you lost your tongue?" The young man asked coldly, eyes boiling in impatience. Clearly he'd been thinking for too long.

"The Dragon Lord never had children," Merlin lied blatantly, feeling the sweat betraying dripping from his brow. "We all called him father. He was the master to us all." Merlin didn't dare look up at the man's searching gaze. Thoughts trickled slowly through his mind, like sticky treacle. Gloopy and ineffective.

"Why would you be in a camp amongst children?" The man asked. "Look at me when I speak to you."

Merlin looked up, praying his eyes didn't do any nervous double takes from the probing turquoise ones.

_Convince. More words._

"M- My younger brother was in this camp. I was obliged to stay with him." Merlin managed to stutter.

"Strange how you would weep for your master, but not your brother."

"You didn't give me anything left of him to weep for," Merlin pointed out between thin breaths. "Burning everyone into ash like they were an animal…" 

"Hold your tongue," The man ordered with clear authority. Was that… guilt he saw in the man's eyes? An unspoken apology between the two, perhaps?

"Catch him when he falls," the man said, eyes behind Merlin. Clearly not.  
Merlin didn't even have time to react as he felt a heavy blow to the head, a throbbing pain rushing blackness upon him like a black curtain closing. His senses shut down one by one, sight immediately, the others following promptly. The last words he heard, fuzzy and almost incomprehensible was in and out of his head instantly.

"I want him raring to go for his interrogation."

~OOO~

"You have been found guilty of practicing witchcraft and sorcery in the lands of Camelot, despite the laws set in place." Uther said, leaning in with a cold glare. Merlin stared back defiantly, eyes burning with hatred. He was bound and gagged, and forced to the floor by two of Uther's men despite his obvious fragile state. The man that had captured him in the first place hovered near the throne, biting his fingernails anxiously. Merlin had seen men like him before, men that just sucked up to their king to bask in the glory of wealth and power.

"I would," Uther hesitated. "I would sentence you to death." The longing in his eyes were clear. Mutters of wonderment swept through the Throne Room, people shifting on their feet uneasily.

"My Lord," An old man stepped forward carefully, bowing for good measures. "What are you suggesting?"  
Uther turned to the old man, freeing Merlin from his menacing stare.  
"Being alive but unable to use his curses would be a suitable punishment, don't you think Gaius?"

Merlin's blood ran cold, shivers rippling throughout his body in fear. Without his gifts, Merlin was nobody. All his life, magic had guided him. The job he had, the place he lived, and the friends he'd made… all of it linked back to magic. Threatening to take it away was like ripping his heart out. It couldn't be done without the worst of pain.

"This is why," a glint of malice took shape in Uther eyes as he went on. "I have decided to use the Collar."  
The man addressed as Gaius had his mouth gaping in surprise.  
"My Lord, this collar is riddled with strong magic. If we use it-"  
"I am well aware, Gaius," Uther snarled. "But this is another step forward for us. If this collar works, then we can use it with future outlaws."  
"'If' indeed," Gaius protested. "The collar could murder the boy for all we know; we cannot base our decisions on legends and old tales."

"Are you suggesting this collar is incapable of taking away such curses?"  
"No, I-"

"Your opinion is worthless then," Uther smirked cruelly.  
"But mine is not, father," Merlin's captor said in a steady voice.

Merlin lifted his head in surprise. Father? Merlin's heart skipped a beat in realisation. This was Prince Arthur, the deadly warrior who took his tyrant father's orders without question. Why was he helping someone like Merlin?

"Are you harsh enough to contemn a boy to an isolated life such as this? Hang him by chains, I suppose, and let people mock and laugh at the boy that dared defy you? The boy that has had his only talent sucked out of him by the force you swore to destroy?" Upon seeing Uther's murderous face, the Prince quickly added on: "I'm not saying what he has done was right, but maybe what he _could _do would make up for that."

"You forget that this is not about his past mistakes, or future apologies," Uther began to remind him. "This is the present, a curse that will not leave naturally. I will not harbour a traitor in my castle without the discipline he desires. After that he can rot in a cell, like that old dragon did."

"Well, consider this," the Prince said with a deep breath. "His gifts are still restricted but he will not be tortured or left to die," The prince bargained. "He will have his full life in Camelot, until time decides when it is over." 

"It's not up to time to determine his death," Uther snapped. "It's up to _me. _I could kill him right now if I want to."  
Merlin braced himself, squeezing his eyes shut in acceptance.

"But he can be your responsibility if you're so keen to have him alive," Uther shrugged with part of his show. "You can train him however you want, and bring him to me when you think he is ready for repenting against his crimes. Consider it a project for you to work on whenever and however you wish. Gaius shall fit the collar and school him while you're busy."

Merlin widened his eyes in stark horror of his punishment, glancing at the Prince in raw and desperate pain. It appeared he wasn't the only one unhappy. The Prince looked like he swallowed something sharp, his face twisted in despair. Gaius remained emotionless, his deadpanned face as smooth and blank as paper.

Merlin expected for a full on tantrum of disagreement from the Prince. But instead the Prince just nodded, possibly too pained to speak.

"The collar is to be fitted immediately," Uther said in an order of finality. "The court is dismissed."

**A/N: Hey guys! Poor Merlin! I don't know why I write such painful things about him. Sorry for such a short chapter. I think depending on the current events, it'll always be 1000-5000 words. The 'Collar' will be explained in a bit more detail soon, it was my plan to keep it brief and mysterious for this chapter. I'm going to update this weekly, and try to keep up with both school and this story. (Please don't kill me if I'm a tad late.) Presently I'm on my Easter holidays (Happy Easter by the way, forgot to say last time) so it's all sunshine and rainbows at the minute. I'm trying to take advantage of my temporary break and write as much as possible. As usual, leave a like if you enjoyed and review to express positive/negative opinions. Sorry if I haven't replied to your reviews yet, I'm working on it now****. **

**Anyway, I'll see you again next week.**


	3. Chapter 3

The only ones left standing in the Throne Room with the King were Gaius and the Prince. Even the guards that held down Merlin were dismissed, leaving him awkwardly collapsed on the ground. Merlin didn't even have the energy to pick himself up, his pride long gone along with his strength. Any hope that remained in his eyes instantly evaporated at the word 'collar'. Merlin was entirely ignorant on the subject of dark magic, knowing it was possible for a device to capture and imprison magic. But such a

"You have my permission," The King granted to Gaius. Merlin noticed from the corner of his eye how the Prince was shifting restlessly on his feet. Before Merlin could determine what emotions were behind it, Gaius was in front of Merlin. His grey long hair tumbled past his shoulders, face puckered both with sympathy and wrinkles. His face was etched with a portrait of kindness, a trait that had seemingly always accompanied the old man.

"Get up, boy," Gaius said in a gentle voice, almost comforting for what was about to come. If it were anyone but this old man, that showed such wisdom in comparison to the King, Merlin would've refused as a last act of rebellion. But the part of Merlin that simply melted with any show of affection or friendship nagged at him to obey. Grinding his teeth, Merlin tried to stand with all the energy he could muster.

His overworked and abused muscles protested with such idiocy, but grimly Merlin struggled on. If this was his last act of freedom, he wanted it to be with him on his feet and prepared for the inevitable. On instinct, Merlin tried to steady himself with his hands, which was a terrible idea with them being bound so tightly. The ropes cut in as he tried to right himself, balance eluded Merlin's grasp. Just as he was about to stumble to the floor, a hand gripped his arm. Teary eyed in frustration, but now glassy in gratitude, Merlin's eyes followed up his arm to the man's face. Gaius stood firmly, supporting most of Merlin's feather weight as his feet clumsily tried to adjust. Merlin mouthed a grateful _thank you_, despite knowing that the old man could not see from under the gag.

Even when Merlin maintained a healthy balance, Gaius kept his hand firmly on Merlin's arm. Merlin could see in his blurred vision the circle of metal, but tried no harder to focus in on the evil that would do more harm than death, to him.

"I'm sorry," Gaius muttered, so low that surely only Merlin could hear. "I truly am."

Merlin wanted to cry out. He wanted to yell that none of this was _his _fault, but the inhumane monster that sat so causally on the throne. He wanted to demand why a man as kind as he was working for such a crude King. But what he wanted to do the most was to snap that unbreakable ring of metal into two, and throw it at that stupid King's head.

Instead Merlin locked his eyes onto Gaius, hoping the old man could see the gratitude boiling fiercely within. Solemnly both man and boy stood, young and old joined briefly in understanding. All too soon, Gaius looked away and all too soon the ring of metal was placed over Merlin's head. For a split second the metal rested on his head, almost like a halo. Then Gaius forced it down, the metal tight against his neck, lodged into place just below his Adam's apple. At first nothing happened. The collar remained indifferent in power, the cool neutrality of the collar cold against his skin. Then it shone brightly, burning light bursting in blunt sunbursts. Merlin screamed unavoidably, the agony nothing like he'd ever felt before. It was as if part of his soul had been ripped out, replaced with a heavy burden that was like a weight dragging down his chest into unconsciousness. Merlin gladly complied, crumpling to the cold floor with the weight of loss pushing him down and away from reality.

~OOO~

_Even away from reality, the pain pursued him. His chest still was like a magnet to earth, forcing him to lie down in the blackness of his mind. Breathing wasn't an option; but floating was. He was floating away into a now peaceful white light, into the blissful nothingness of death's arms. Even the pain coming from his shuddering chest stopped, even though Merlin was fairly sure he wasn't breathing. But even so, Merlin found himself relaxing, his tense muscles loosening one by one. Merlin smiled finally nearly free of the pain, which held him down like chains._

"_Merlin," a powerful voice breathed from the distance, echoing softly through the stillness. _

_As soon as the voice spoke, he was sucked back into the vortex of black pain. Merlin nearly sobbed at how quickly it all came back, the weights now pulling all over his body, the feeling so unshakeable it felt like his limbs were being torn from his body. _

"_You mustn't give up."_

'I want to.'_ Merlin silently cried, his chest preventing any such words. '_I want to so badly. Let me go, please. I have nothing to live for.'

"_Your destiny is as inescapable as your life. Let go of your fear, young warlock. It will all become clear, soon enough."_

Merlin leapt up, only to be tugged down again with a dangling metal. Increasingly bewildered, the pain in reality flooded back. His head pounded like a second heartbeat, his chest still heavy. Wheezing in a breath, Merlin's sleep crusted eyes blinked frantically for better vision.

"Relax," a voice soothed Merlin. "Let it come to you."  
"H-Help," Merlin tried to gasp. "C-Can't breathe."

"You're delirious, young man," The gentle voice reassured him. "I need you to sit back for me. Yes, that's good. Stay still."

Merlin wasn't aware he'd even moved, but he presumed the voice shifted him. The voice that was vaguely familiar…

Merlin felt a stinging liquid on his open and frantic eyes, light abruptly flashing in with it. Merlin's eyes resented its brightness, but at the same time, he was beyond relief that he could see again. Water gushed slowly past his dead lips, the sore of his throat fading with it. Merlin tried to suckle more eagerly, but the flask was removed almost instantly.

"You'll be sick if you don't take it slowly."

Merlin blinked, observing his surroundings. Everything was far too bright; the dirty brown of his room a radiant maroon as Merlin tried to prop himself up. The old man that was with him in the Throne Room sat close to Merlin, wizened face in a frown of touching concern. Merlin was propped up on a thin mattress, stripped to his loincloth in his feverish state. Sweat engulfed his shaking, frail body, a thin sheet draped around his skeleton-like figure.

"M-my chest," Merlin said in a louder but increasingly croaky voice.

"Look what you've done to your wrist," Gaius said with a soft tut, ignoring Merlin's complaint purposely.

Merlin glanced down automatically. His wrist was soaked in blood, dripping onto the mattress swiftly. The pain was secondary compared to his head and chest. The manacle shackling him to the bed was streaked in scarlet, red drying on the chain like paint.

"Why am I chained?"

"The Prince's orders," Gaius hesitated. "Well, specifically the King's."  
"Oh." Merlin said in acknowledgement, trying to think of something to say. What do you say to your captor after they've willingly allowed you to be chained to a bed? But Merlin knew he could never blame the old man, who was probably just following orders.

"Not like you need them anymore," Gaius murmured mostly to himself. His eyes flickered over Merlin wearily. "You have to promise to not try and escape."

"I promise," Merlin muttered begrudgingly. Merlin was smart enough to know that such a dreadfully planned escape would only end in tears and blood. Or more specifically, flames. Merlin repressed a shiver at that thought, and instead flexed his sore wrist as it was unchained. The blood had already crusted into an almost dried scarlet bracelet, Gaius gently applying some cream. Merlin hissed at the sudden stinging, but kept still as the old man rubbed it in. Even as Gaius repeatedly draped bandages around his stiff wrist, Merlin did nothing.

Blankly, he watched the repeated layers of dirty white engulfed his frail wrist, his eyes following the old man's movements suspiciously. It had been a long time since he felt human contact that wasn't painful, the occasion brush of Gaius' fingertips sending shivers of tender memories. His mother tracing her fingertips lovingly as she swept any strands of wild hair away. The shock playing through her eyes as Merlin picked up an object without his hands. The sullen handshake when Merlin first met his father for the first time.

"It's not your chest hurting, really," Gaius said unexpectedly, forcing Merlin back into the present.

Merlin blinked, debating whether to answer. Though the old man showed no passion in discipline, Merlin certainly couldn't feel at ease just yet. Technically he was an enemy of Camelot's, and anyone who allowed or agreed with Uther's madness was never a friend. But here this man was, about to enlighten him on why his chest was so heavy.  
"Oh," Merlin said in the smallest voice possible, squeezing his eyes shut for the pain that was about to come.

"It's the Collar," Gaius gazed steadily into Merlin's dark eyes, trying to find the angry stars that would not shine. Waiting for a reaction, possibly. Nothing. Merlin had nothing to say to the man that rid him of his freedom.

With no instant reaction, Gaius rambled on.

"The magic that drives the collar is seated deep in your soul. With it comes a restraint that no one can match." Gaius shot him an apologetic look. "Unless the collar is removed, your magic will not ever be useable."  
"And what if I try to use it?" Merlin asked quietly, rage boiling at the pit of his stomach.

Gaius blanched, clearly not expecting such a brash answer.

"See for yourself," Gaius said with consent.

Merlin hesitated, hand automatically in the air. He felt no glory in it, the usual thrum of power absent in his veins. It ran cold in realisation. Maybe in the Throne Room he should've felt the horror of the truth. Maybe as he woke up he should've. But in that moment, the one before any wonders were created, he felt the true extent of the collar. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, grieving for the gift that is his life. _Was _his life.

His heart dropped dead in mourning, his chest hollow and light, yet heavy and soul crushing.

Merlin nodded his head in understanding. He felt the tears flow without leaving his eyes, the ultimate weight of this curse flattening Merlin into a puny human.

A life without his gifts wasn't a life worth living. As soon as Gaius left, Merlin rushed for the tiny window, his thoughts blurred into one insane question.

_Is it high enough?_

**A/N: Okay can I just clarify a possibly suicidal bound Merlin is hurting you just as much as it is hurting me. I'm sorry for how short and crappy this chapter is, but good news is I updated a day early! I've been super busy, so I only had a chance to briefly skim through for any grammar mistakes. I thought I had a couple of days left on my holiday, but it turns out school has moved the dates again for the holiday. YAY! As I'm going to be preoccupied with my personal hellhole, I may be a bit behind on updates. Please don't freak out if I'm a few days late (at the most,) I'm probably just drowning in the amount of textbooks I've been given for Geography. UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… I might just take Merlin's place by the window. Thank you so much for reading, and leave a review if you enjoyed! Favourites and followers are just as amazing, it will probably get me through exams with a smile. (And that's a lot.) Thank you so much and I'll see you in (hopefully) a week!**


	4. Chapter 4

After the incident with the window, Merlin was condemned with mindless errands from Gaius. He's stepped into the small bedroom to ask whether Merlin wanted some porridge that he'd made a few minutes after tending to his injuries. Upon returning, Gaius found Merlin with his hands on the windowsill, gazing out the small window, which was fully opened. Of course, there wasn't anything abnormal about that. But Merlin's eyes were glazed with an insatiable look, the voraciousness a hunger dwelling deep within. Gaius had seen in amongst patients before. The insensitive glint in their eyes; the glow that demanded for death without a second thought for others.

Gaius handled the situation very calmly, keeping himself cool and collected, unlike his mind which called in trepidation for the boy. He told Merlin he had some food on the table for him, as he waited for the reluctant boy to follow. It was clear he found it difficult to comply, his emaciated form rigid with the tension of mistrust. Gaius sighed subtly, wondering how long it would take for the boy to realise he wouldn't hurt him. Possibly months. That that he could blame the boy, not after all he'd done. It was under his King's orders, but not under the orders of his own being. Still, one could see it as a way of cowardice and clearly the boy thought no different. His steps were hesitant, but proud against the face of what he thought was the enemy. Gaius wondered if the boy would ever see Camelot as his new life, and not a place of fear and desperation.

_Maybe it'll take even longer then it will take to trust me_, Gaius thought sullenly.

Gaius kept a watchful eye on the boy as he busied himself purposely in arranging his shelves of medicine, but his true intentions were hiding all the lethal poisons. The boy didn't seem to suspect anything, though his attention was fairly distracted with a bowl of food in front of him. The boy tested the watery oats gingerly, which Gaius couldn't blame him for. Gaius's cooking skills was as good as that of his combat skills, which were slim to nothing. But, with a boy as thin as that, Gaius's had better get used to it. The porridge was hot in some places, but mostly cold and lumpy and bordering on inedible. But soon the boy was eating like a ravenous wolf, and Gaius doubted he was even bothering to taste it.

In a matter of a few minutes the boy had finished his porridge with something close to enthusiasm, Gaius just managing to stash away the worst of the poisons.

"Thank you," The boy said quietly after downing his cup of water, standing up unsurely. As if he needed Gaius's consent to do so.

"Now that you've finished we should run through a list of your… duties and expectations here." Gaius said word 'duties' with extreme delicacy.  
The boy seemed to know exactly what Gaius meant with his brow furrowed, as if bracing himself for what was about to come.

"Firstly we should start with your name," Gaius said with a smile, lowering himself on the stool opposite Merlin, gesturing for Merlin to do the same. Of course, Gaius already knew his name. But he didn't want the boy under any more stress than he already was already dealing with. It was like trying to entice a wild animal. Make one wrong move, and it'll bolt. But Merlin seemed to take the first question well, chewing his lip with an expression with something akin to a pleasant surprise. Noticing Gaius studying him with a bemused expression, Merlin clarified.

"It feels like so long since someone asked that," Merlin said in explanation, the smallest of smiles lighting up his whole face. Suddenly he did not look like the boy that lost everything closest to him. He did not look like a walking corpse. He looked beautifully human, the deeply embedded emotion luminous on his once haggard face. But as quickly as it came, the smile vanished and with it the person Gaius knew only for a few seconds. He cleared his throat awkwardly, as if smiling was such a dark crime.  
"My name is Merlin."  
"Deeply happy to make your acquaintance, Merlin. My name is Gaius, and you'll be…" Gaius thought carefully… "My ward when Arthur is otherwise preoccupied." Gaius trailed a finger nervously across his desk. "And… I should probably tell you how things are going to be from now on."

Merlin almost snorted in derision at that. Being an outlawed man practicing magic and now condemned into a life of slavery, instead of being executed like everyone so clearly wants?

_I'll be fine, _Merlin thought sarcastically, but kept his unhelpful remarks carefully to himself. It wouldn't benefit him in anyway, and really what was the point on fighting? Unless he was given a prime opportunity, Merlin was intelligent enough to know that trying to escape so desperately would be fruitless.

Gaius almost looked uncomfortable, but managed to keep his worn features carefully blank.  
"You'll be Arthur's slave to his every whim. Whatever he desires, you must do so without hesitation." Gaius said slowly, exaggerating every word in his abrupt seriousness. "He will request duties that you may disagree with, or even to the point of protesting. _You must never do that." _Gaius leant in with his last words, the intensity of his warning dripping from his voice.

Merlin gulped, wondering what would happen if he dared to disobey the Prince.

"They're looking for the slightest excuse to beat you to a pulp, to torture you to something incomprehensible. You must perfect your work, keeping intact both your manners and actions." Gaius sighed then. "Of course Arthur will tell you all this anyway."  
"So since I'm of magical blood and still legally allowed alive I'm…?" Merlin's skin started to crawl.  
Gaius nodded grimly. "Many people have lost friends to magic users, or even been friends to magic's who have been executed or murdered." Gaius straightened up. "Everyone has paid the ultimate price for their magic. Then here you come strolling in changing all that. They're going to be some… inconsiderate people Merlin. You must ignore them at all costs, but never retaliate."

Merlin nodded mechanically. Instead of feeling misery or possible terror at Gaius's words, Merlin found himself quite level-headed and calm. Merlin didn't know _how_. Everything Gaius had said promised cold dread and a hell of a lot of abuse, both mentally and physically. But instead Merlin realised warmth spreading through his body every time Gaius said his name. Not with hatred or fear, not with the utter heart wretch of betrayal. It was just his name, a specific word that individualised Merlin. This word, that hadn't been used for so, so long. Too long.

Just as Merlin was going to say something to Gaius presumably thanks or perhaps another question, the door was opened suddenly without any knocking. Merlin sprang up on impulse, momentarily surprised that anyone could interrupt such an important discussion. Merlin was jolted into reality; forced to feel the separation of classes as a man glowered at him from the door. Dressed thickly in chainmail, the hardy material did nothing to hide his muscles the built of his chest and abdomen which resembled that of a proud gorilla. Thick and sturdy he stood squared jaw and shaggy brow furrowing in irrational anger. His hooked nose was turned upwards, as if he could smell something terrible.

"Prince Arthur summons for his slave," he reported, vicious hatred spelling out every syllable. He glanced at Merlin briefly, his beady eyes stormy with brown, loathing resentment. "Now,"  
Merlin hesitated, but upon seeing Gaius's expression, quickly made to follow the knight. As soon as he left the safe haven of Gaius's chambers, a broad anxiety settled in.

Merlin was trapped in the havoc of his own thoughts. Though the collar fitting was only a few hours ago, it felt like _years _ago. Walking with the knight at such a brisk, unsettling pace was somehow familiar. It felt natural. Merlin tried to supress his perplexing thoughts, his eyes drifting up without realising. He and the knight were wandering almost aimlessly around the various corridors, the whole route like a maze for Merlin. Idly, he wondered how he'd make his way around without any help. The second thing he noticed was how much attention he was getting. Every person that walked past, even servants were gawping at him. Some even spat as he walked by sheepishly, their mouths almost foaming like a dog with rabies. Grinding his teeth in humiliation Merlin changed his posture dramatically, stalking past and shooting glares at everyone who dared to stare. He did it because he remembered all his friends, his father… dying senselessly. He did it because he suddenly realised he shouldn't cower under his enemies, regardless of the situation. And hell, he did it because he _wanted _a reaction.

So preoccupied with his empathy, Merlin wasn't aware he practically power walked ahead of the knight. The next thing Merlin knew he was on the floor, head spinning with stars and inky blotches staining his vision. Merlin didn't even know where the hit came from, or in that bleary moment _what _hit him. All he knew in that split second was it was hard. Too hard. His head throbbed in agony. He touched the wound automatically.

His hand came away scarlet.

Before Merlin had time to panic, strong hands were lifting him up. He felt words roaring through his head, heard the rage, but nothing else. He felt himself being shook. It sent waves of pain crashing in his lean frame, felt the pain blurring all else out. If Merlin had the energy, he would've screamed. But his strength was being drained out of him, his harrowing vision fuzzy and flashing black.

He felt himself unwillingly falling, muscles succumbing to unconsciousness. Mercifully, nothing stopped him. Gladly, he plunged in the tunnel of nothingness. Everything was gone.

"I know you're awake," the unrecognisable voice accused his confident remark booming through Merlin's head, nearly shattering him mentally in the process. Merlin tried to let a scream of pain pass through his heavy lips, but all that came out was a strangled whimper.

At first all was silent. The tension of suspicion still remained thick in the air, but Merlin even mustered a glimmer of hope that maybe the stranger had heard his silent plea. Of course his wish instantly perished.

A mind numbingly cold jet of water was poured over his face, his body suddenly jolting in surprise. Merlin recollected his consciousness, spluttering and coughing. The first thing he saw was a pair of hard blue eyes, the intense ocean-like colour staring almost innocently at Merlin's trembling form.

"You're mopping up."

**A/N: Omg I'm SO SORRY for how late this chapter was. YES I BROKE MY PROMISE OF A WEEKLY UPDATE! (I did warn you though.) School's been so much more unpredictable than usual and now it's all getting pretty serious and extreme. Basically every day when I came home from school, I'd have a PILE of homework and revision, and by the time I was done I was strongly considering euthanasia was an amazing option. Whenever I wrote, I was like a freaking zombie robot. Seriously, in comparison to this chapter (which was NOT good) I was writing a stupid textbook or something. Seriously I was so tired last night while writing this I started mingling Latin with English. (Idek.) To make things worse, I've had a really crappy virus I'm just getting over. My life can basically be summed up as (be prepared for such accuracy): UGHHHHHHHHHH. Because of the extreme severity of my studies, I'll have to make this a two week update. Once again, I am really sorry. Anyway, enough of me grumbling. Leave a favourite if you enjoyed, and like always leave a review expressing opinions, regardless of positive or negative. It honestly all keeps me sane and strong. Followers will always keep me smiling; PM's of personal opinions will be just as brilliant. **


	5. AN: End

Hey guys! Unfortunately, is really isn't a happy time. I'm sorry I haven't been able to update, but I've recently become the victim of a car crash. So… yeah that totally sucks. I've came out lucky with a broken leg, but I've had to have surgery. But my best friend is in a coma. As you can imagine, I have been focusing on real life more so than my fictional one. This isn't a chapter, just an acknowledgment that I have to stop writing now. I'm so, so sorry for not being able to finish this. I can just hope you understand why. Thank you to everyone that has supported me, but I cannot continue. Anyone that wants to adopt this has my full permission.

I will keep my profile, but I won't be on it for a very long time. Sorry again. Thank you specifically to Ka3sy, who has been there since the start. Have a bit more faith in yourself and start to write, because I know you can do it.


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